


Dangerous

by xanaphorax



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Sisters, Stranger Things 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14363526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanaphorax/pseuds/xanaphorax
Summary: Ever since you were little, people tended to underestimate just how badass you were. You never expected that moving to Hawkins, Indiana would be the thing to convince people that you were more than just a pretty face.





	1. Dangerous

Whenever she was asked about her two daughters, your mother liked to launch into a pair of stories to describe you. At this point, it was almost a performance piece, what with the way she had nailed down the timing and the intonations and the facial expressions she would use at certain points. She had given the monologue so many times that you could clearly visualize it in your head, and pretty soon, you’d be able to take over for her.

She would start with a story about Max.

“Maxine is my youngest. You’ve probably seen her on her skateboard, zooming around town.” (The skateboard was a relatively new addition to the story within the past four years. Before that it was roller skates, and before that she was simply running.)

“She’s always been like that–always on the move, can’t stay still for more than fifteen seconds. I swear,” here your mother would lay a hand over her heart, “she goes by Max because she doesn’t want to stick around long enough for the second half of her name.” This would be followed by polite laughter and maybe some nodding. “You know, that reminds me of this one story. When Max was about seven and a half months old, she went missing. One morning I came into her room to check in on her since she had usually woken me up by then, and she was gone. I ran back to Jerry and woke him up in a panic, and he said that he had woken up in the middle of the night to check on her but he had put her back in the crib and she was fine. Anyway, we ran out into the hallway calling for her, hoping she would make some sound, and then all of the sudden we heard these little footsteps and I looked up to see Max toddling out of Y/N’s room. Seven and a half month’s old and she was walking! Independently!” There would be gasps here and some form of  _“No.”_

“I swear,” your mother would hold up a hand. “She walked straight towards me and threw her little hands up at me to be picked up since I could walk much faster.” She would drop her hand and lean back in her seat with a smile. “After that our house constantly looked as if it’d been hit by an earthquake.” Your mother and the other person would laugh politely.

“Seems like you’ve got a little trouble maker on your hands,” the person would inevitably say.

“Ohhhh, yes, but Maxine’s the least of my problems.” Your mother would look at you in your pink dress with white stockings and Mary Janes (or, as you got older, your floral leggings, frilly sweater,  and oversized blazer). “Y/N is the dangerous one.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” the other person would shoot you a smile, pinching a dimpled cheek or tugging on a braid or patting your knee. Then they would cast a dubious look at Max with her mop of wildly curly red hair and consider the fact that she had not been still for a single moment since they entered this conversation with your mother while you sat quietly by her side, legs neatly crossed.

“Don’t let her looks deceive you,” your mother would shake her head. “Let me tell you about this one time, Y/N was six years old at the time, so that would make Max about two. I had just gotten back from food shopping, and the neighbor who was watching them told me that the girls were playing in Y/N’s room and that they had been well behaved and she hadn’t heard a peep out of them. Well, of course, it’s never a good sign when my girls are quiet, so I beelined straight for Y/N’s room. And I found them,” at this point she was digging through her purse. Of course, this was for show. The picture was tucked safely away in an inside pocket, and she would produce it with a small, triumphant “Aha!” and hand it to the other person.

In the picture, you and Max were sitting on the floor next to your bed. Next to you, three nail polish containers were pouring out various shades of pink onto the carpet. Your mother’s make up bag sat in between you, but it had to have been completely empty as every form of make up, brush, and beauty tool was scattered around the two of you. For your part, you were grinning up at your mother, pink cheeked with bright red lips and what looked like almost a lipstick mustache because of how poorly you applied it. You had smudged heaps of purple eyeshadow onto your eyelids, reaching up to your eyebrows. Pinched between your dark pink and light pink little nails was your mother’s mascara wand. Across from you, Max was gaping open mouthed at your mother, her lips a similar bright red, but the entire left side of her face was pink and she had green eyeshadow which was delicately blended in with her fair eyebrows. Except, her right eye had dark black smudges across it from where you tried to apply mascara. In her hair, you had had clipped about a half dozen of your mom’s curlers.

Reactions ranged from a simple “Oh my!” and stifled giggle to laughing so hard tears fell from their eyes.

“For the life of me, I don’t know how she convinced Max to sit still for that long. Or how either of them the reached my make up bag on top of my dresser,” your mother would laugh, taking back the picture and zipping it up into its pockets. “But those are my girls for you.”

You may have aged twelve years and moved across the country, but you had to admit, the story was still classic you.

After all, you woke up every day an hour earlier than you had to just so you could do your make up and coax your hair into the perfect side pony. And you needed at least 30 minutes to play around with your wardrobe to make sure you had a unique outfit to wear that day. There were 365 days in a year, and you refused to wear the same exact outfit on any single one of them.

Ok, so at around day 300 you had to start getting creative with what counted as the same and what didn’t, but the fact remained that you  _did not_ repeat outfits. And it wasn’t like you had thirty different shirts or forty pairs of pants. Your wardrobe was reasonable. You just had a knack for pairing things that other people may not have considered and what your mother deemed “a natural talent at accessorizing.”

Today for instance, you had tied a neon blue bow into your hair (in addition to your black sequined scrunchy), stacked about thirty five jelly bracelets up your arm, and secured yourself into your clothes with two belts.

You were looking totally glam. You had to be. It was the first day at your new school.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Billy asked looking over at you from his eggs. You rolled your eyes and flipped him off, lifting your spoon to your mouth.

“Why do you care?” Max glared at him over her cereal. 

“It’s fine, Max,” you murmured. 

“I have to be seen with you getting out of my car,” Billy’s lip curled as he looked over at you again. “You should change.”

Max opened up her mouth to say something, but was cut off. 

“Who needs to change?” your mother asked, lightly, breezing back into the kitchen from the bathroom. 

“Billy was worried about his denim on denim look,” you looked up at your mom, shooting a brief, tight lipped, smile. “I told him it’s very fashion forward.”   

“I think you all look great.” Your mother bent down and kissed your temple. “Thank you,” she whispered in your ear. You just shot another tight lipped smile at Billy. 

She moved around the table and kissed Max’s head. You guess based on Max’s scowl what she whispered— _be nice_. 

Your mother continued around the table and stopped behind Billy, hovering for a second. She patted his shoulder lightly, and Billy’s whole body tenses up, his knuckles going white on his grip on his fork. Your mother walked away, but Billy didn’t relax. He glared over at you. 

“You should probably head out soon,” your mother advised. “Don’t want to be late to your first day.” 

Billy shoveled the rest of his eggs into his mouth and then shoved away from the table.

“Your plate, Billy,” your mother lightly reminded. 

Billy paused, plastering on a smile so fake you wouldn’t see it on a Barbie. “Sorry, Susan.” His words were a wooden sort of cheery. Billy walked back over, scooping his plate up from the table and dropping it in the sink where it let out a loud clattering sound. 

Max muttered something under her breath, and you saved yours, settling for rolling your eyes. 

“Thank you, Billy,” your mother’s voice was at a whisper. Your stomach tightened and your fingernails dug into your hand.

Max looked over at you before standing up and stacking your plate on top of hers, gently placing them both onto Billy’s, as the front door banged open, Billy walking out to his car.

“Bye Mom,” Max said quietly, following Billy out. 

“Bye Mom,” you echoed, stopping by her and planting a kiss on her cheek before leaving to go to school. 

* * *

The first thing you noticed about Hawkins High School was all of the jeans. 

The second thing you noticed was all of the sweaters. 

At least in California there’s been a mix of bad fashion. You’d had the kids who insisted on neon spandex. All. The. Time. And the punk kids. And yeah there were also jeans and t-shirts kids, but at least they had cool slogans. 

The kids in Hawkins looked at you, casting derisive and surprised looks. You ignored them, searching the halls for cute boys or a girl who was also familiar with the color pink. Whichever came first.  

Your eyes landed on an attractive boy. He was tall and relatively well dressed in the grand scheme of Hawkins. For one thing, he was definitely pulling off the sunglasses indoors thing, and his hair. His hair was  _killer_. 

“Hi, excuse me,” you asked, pitching your voice even higher than normal. It was the unspoken way of signaling that you meant no harm, wouldn’t be asking if you had someone else to ask, but yes, you were open to being friends. 

“Uh,” the boy looked over at you, giving you a once over. “Hi.”

“Do you know where Mr. Roth’s class is? I’m new and can’t quite figure my way out around the school.” 

“Yeah, it’s down by Kramer,” the boy said, gesturing vaguely down the hall. You had a sinking feeling you’d chosen an attractive asshole rather than the chivalrous attractive. 

“And Kramer is….” you trailed off, your voice rising a little bit, edging closer to the “Danger Tone” as Max called it. 

“Down the hall, second left. It’s one of the doors on the right hand side,” he sighed. He looked over at you as you blinked. “Get any of that?”

You gave him your signature tight lipped smile and nodded. Watching as he widened his eyes and sucked in a breath, shaking his head as he turned away. 

You wished you could tell him exactly what you thought of him in that moment. But instead you stood there gaping as he walked away. You wished Max was here. She’d have the words to match your one finger raised high. 

* * *

You saw the attractive asshole again at lunch. You had squeaked when the lunch lady scooped sludge on your tray, earning looks from everyone in line. The Asshole was a few people ahead of you in line and at your sound had looked back at you. His eyes met yours and he scoffed, rolling his eyes. In the back of your mind a small plan formed to trip next to his seat and spill your sludge all over. But as you watched him walk away and sit next to the one girl who had bothered to be nice to you today and help you catch up in math, you decided to give him a pass. 

* * *

“What the fuck happened to my car?” Billy asked staring at his Camaro. On the driver’s side door was a long thin scratch. 

You looked over at it as you walked around to the passenger side door. “Piss someone off already, Billy?” you asked in a sweet voice. His eyes shot to you, his gaze darkening. 

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he growled.

“Every time she’s been near this car, it’s been right behind you. Don’t you think you would have seen her key your car?” Max asked, opening the back seat door and climbing in. You followed suit, both of you slamming your doors shut at the same time. 

Billy weighed this and decided he was attentive enough that he would have noticed. He wasn’t because he didn’t.

He hadn’t said one word to you when you got out of his car that morning, walked around the back under the guise of letting Max out, and then took out your house key and run it along the side of the car. How he hadn’t heard was beyond you. The mullet must have muffled it. Oh well. 

* * *

You had decided you did like Hawkins ok.  Not as much as your siblings, though. Max seemed to be taking to it fairly well. At first she practically lived at the arcade, but eventually she made friends and even met up with them to go trick or treating. And Billy. Billy had been dubbed the fucking king at that party. It had taken you close to two hours to find any cute boys willing to dance with you. And you had thought your fairy outfit was appropriately sexy meets the Indiana cold. And while word had gotten around that you were a talented kisser and that you had made your debut kissing the popular Todd Collins, you were finally welcomed into a semi-popular group. After several shopping trips and three sleepovers, you convinced your newfound friends of the fun of nail polish and glory of leggings. They had a road ahead of them, but progress.

The most surprising turn was that you and Billy had a common enemy: Steve Harrington. The attractive asshole. Although it was probably more accurate to say that you and Steve had a common antagonist in Billy. Or maybe the boys had a shared distaste of you. Whatever it was, the three of you didn’t like each other and you found yourself occasionally admiring the jabs Steve made at Billy’s expense and hearing about how Billy had thrown Steve on his ass.

But while you, Max, and Billy had all made friends, none of you expected to hear the doorbell ring on a Friday after school.  

As you were currently shut up in your room painting your nails, and Billy was playing macho-man, lifting weights in the front of the house, You elected to have him answer it.

“Max are you getting that, or what?” Billy shouted out. You should have expected as much. You rolled your eyes taking a deep breath in.

“OK!” Max answered, and you breathed out in relief, thankful for your little sister. You still had three nails left. 

The doorbell rang again. Five more times. 

“I swear to God, Max!” Billy shouted, and you heard Max storm out of her room, and the doorbell stopped. 

You had finished up the last of your nails before Max came back in. You could hear a brief exchange between her and Billy before Max slammed back into her room. You got up from your desk chair, slipping out of your room and knocking on Max’s door twice before going in. 

“Max!” you gasped, looking at your wide-eyed little sister who was half way in her room and half way out the window. 

“Y/N!” Max answered in an equally shocked voice. Her eyes darted over your shoulder. “Close the door!” she hissed. 

You hurried into the room, pushing the door shut behind you. 

“What—Where—” you stuttered, as Max remained frozen. “Get out of the window!” you finally settled. She acquiesced. 

“Max?” A boy’s voice drifted up through the open window. Max’s eyes grew even wider. She looked as if she’s just been caught stealing your mother’s car keys. 

“Who is that Max?” you asked, lowly. You had a sinking feeling you knew as you crossed to the window. 

Lucas Sinclair. 

His eyes grew as wide as Max’s as he looked up at you.

You turned to Max. “You know I’m a sucker for a good romantic cliche, Max, but are you serious right now?”

“It’s not romantic,” Max mumbled, her face flushing.

“Look, it’s a matter of life or death!” Lucas called up.

“ _Shhhhh_ ,” you hissed. “If Billy hears you, we’re all in trouble.”

“If it’s not romantic, why are you sneaking out your window?”

“He said he has proof that there’s some sort of alternate dimension and creepy conspiracy in town,” Max looked up at you. 

You blanched.

“ _Max!_ ” Lucas cried out, and you both hushed him. 

“Look, you are  _not_  sneaking out on your own to hunt down conspiracies about alternate dimensions,” you shook your head. 

“Y/N,” Max started, pleading. 

“I’m coming with you,” you announced. Max lit up. 

“No way,” Lucas shook his head. You looked down at him and could see it in the way he looked at your neon pink shirt and thick belt with an admittedly clunky belt buckle. You huffed in a breath. 

“Please,” Max scoffed. “If you’re telling the truth, we  _need_  my sister. She’s the most bad ass person in this town.” You shot a half smile at her and she returned it. 

“Fine, just come on. We have to go!” This boy was one antsy little sucker. 

“Max, go with him. I’ll grab my skates.” 

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to sneak out of the house. All you had to do was walk straight out the door and tell him Dana was here and you were going shopping.

He hardly even looked up to notice you were walking out of the house with your backpack on.

It had been slightly harder to keep up with Lucas Sinclair on your way to the mystery destination because that boy could  _pedal_.

The three of you stopped at the top of a hill, leading to a junk yard. Below you saw a small boy with a red, white, and blue hat and…

“Shit,” you swore as Lucas called out to his friends. Max looked up at you, and pulled a face as if you were crazy. “It’s the asshole,” you muttered to her, as she turned back to look with you at Steve Harrington. You descended down the hill, trailing behind Lucas and Max as you came up to the boys. Hat-boy was looking between Lucas and Max with a mixture of shock and disappointment. It was a look you were all too familiar with, and your heart went out to him.

Even if he was hanging out with the likes of Steve Harrington.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, looking at you skeptically. He crossed his arms, and you matched him. You noticed the Hat-boy pulling Lucas away behind a car.

“I’m here to make sure nothing happens to my sister,” you bit back.

“What afraid she’ll break a nail?” Steve asked with a smug little smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes.

“Please, only time Y/N’s ever broken a nail is when she had to climb out of the window to–” You shot a look at Max, cutting her off.

“That’s a story I want to hear more of,” Steve encouraged.

“What are we doing here?” you ignored him, casting a look around the junkyard. “And what does it have to do with conspiracies and alternate dimensions.”

“Apparently there’s a cat-eating space lizard on the loose.” Steve’s hands moved to his hips as if he was some sort of demented super hero. “And it’s up to us to stop it.”

You snorted. “Yeah, ok. How do we do that?”

“Pile up as much as you can to fortify the bus,” Steve jerked his head towards a large old rusted bus. “Once night comes, hopefully that thing will be lured out to the meat pile, we set it on fire from the safety of the bus, and Hawkins is saved. Easy. Well, except for the heavy lifting.”

“I think I can manage.” You rolled your eyes, pulling off your skates and exchanging them with the sneakers you had stashed in your backpack.

“Not afraid of getting a little dirt under your nails. Maybe messing up your outfit?” Steve poked, smiling.

You glared up at him from where you were tying your shoes. You stood up, stepping closer to him. “What’s your fucking problem?”

Max’s eyes widened and she backed up, turning to start the work on the bus.

“No problem,” Steve shook his head, holding his hands up defensively.

“Than cut the commentary. I dress well. I like pink. I’m a girl, and I really like being a girl, ok?” Your voice was firmly in the Danger Tone.

“Yeah, I noticed. Everyone in Hawkins High notices you prancing around in your little outfits expecting people to go out of their way to help the princess,” Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s bullshit,” he muttered.

“That accusation is bullshit,” you shot back, pulling in deep breaths. They were supposed to calm you. They didn’t.

“Oh is it?” Steve asked, stepping closer to you. “You pulled that little stunt on me. First time I met you.”

“You think I was—” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “I was trying to make friends, you dickhead!”

“You know what,” Steve made made a sweeping motion with his hands. “Let’s just stop talking and work in silence.”

“Fine,” you bit back.

“Good,” he nodded.

You stormed away from Steve, going to hunt down things you could use to fortify the bus. You had only made it a few yards, so you could hear Max perfectly clearly when she walked by Steve and paused next to him:

“Don’t make her mad,” your sister warned. “She gets dangerous.”

You smiled to yourself, and finding a thin but solid looking pipe, you picked it up and stashed it on the bus. Just in case.

* * *

The five of you crowded onto the bus as the sun fell, Steve insisting he be the last one on to close and block up the door. Quickly thereafter, Lucas had offered to go up to the bus’ roof and keep watch, and after a brief exchange with Dustin (that was Hat-boy’s name apparently), in which you had almost stepped in to tell the little sucker off, your sister had gone up to join him. Leaving you alone with Steve Harrington who was flicking a lighter open and closed, and Dustin, who was pouting.

A blood curdling howl echoed outside the bus, and you nearly jumped out of your skin, letting out a small squeak.

Steve turned to you, eyebrow raised. “Easy, princess,” he said, pushing himself up off the floor and looking out the window. You flicked him off even though both he and Dustin had their noses pressed up against the glass. You walked over to stand next to Dustin, peering out the bus’ window.

There was nothing but mist. “This is really creepy,” you murmured, and the boys, thankfully, ignored you.

“You see him?”

“No.”

You could feel a bitter taste it he back of your throat. The same taste you got in your mouth when your mom sat you down after a particularly bad fight with your dad.

“Lucas, what’s going on?” Dustin shouted next to your ear, and you flinched away, shooting him a glare. He probably couldn’t see it in the dark.

“Hold on!” Lucas called back down. You waited one second. Two seconds Three– “I’ve got eyes. 10 o'clock. 10 o'clock!” his voice squeaked.

“There,” Steve said, and your eyes followed his gaze.

Out of the mist crept a creature about the size of a dog. And that was where the similarities to any animal you’d ever seen before in your life ended.

It had no face. Just a hole which it inhaled the raw meat into.

The skin was odd, and it seemed more like it should be a frog’s skin than a dog’s even though it was clearly muscular.

“Eww,” you murmured, unable to take your eyes off of it. Steve and Dustin snorted at you.

“What’s he doing?” Dustin wondered.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered. Suddenly you wanted Max right by your side.

“He’s not taking the bait. Why’s he not taking the bait?” Steve’s voice was frustratingly calm, even when his words weren’t.

“Maybe he’s not hungry,” Dustin posed.

“Maybe the menu’s not to his tastes,” you joked. And then a thought hit you. Maybe the menu  _wasn’t_  to his tastes. He ate cat. He ate cow. Maybe he was looking for something less hairy. Less tough. A little prettier. You bent over and picked up Steve’s nail ridden bat.

“Woah, woah, woah, what do you think you’re doing?” Steve asked, turning and grabbing your wrist.

“I’m expanding the menu,” you replied, flippantly, attempting to yank your wrist back, but Steve’s grip was too strong.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. You’ll get hurt,” Steve pulled the bat from your grasp and released you.

“And what? You won’t? Pretty sure neither of us are particularly prepared to go up against some gross space dog.”

“It’s not a space dog, it’s interdimensional,” Dustin corrected. Another howl echoed out and Steve looked out of the bus at the dog.

“You’re staying here,” Steve ordered, “Just, get ready.” He tossed the lighter to you and left the bus.

_Asshole._

“What’s he doing?” Max asked, joining you and Dustin by the window. You wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Expanding the menu,” Dustin murmured, stealing your joke. You shot another glare at him, and this time he had the decency to duck his head.

“Steve! Watch out!” Lucas’ voice called from the top of the bus. You heard Steve call back a reply when a movement caught your eye, and your breath caught in your throat.

“3 o'clock! 3 o'clock!” Lucas squeaked out and you noticed as more interdimensional dogs crept closer to Steve. And then one lunged, and you gasped out, pulling away from the window as Steve swung his bat and flung himself over the hood of an old car. Dustin ran to the bus’ door, pushing past you and screaming for Steve

“Abort! Abort! Steve, hurry!”

Steve was running back towards the bus and those  _things_  were hot on his tail, and even though he was an asshole, you couldn’t help but scream for him to “RUN FASTER DICKHEAD!” Steve scrambled back onto the bus, pulling the doors closed, and then you heard glass shattering and you were screaming and Max was screaming. Lucas had climbed back down. You don’t remember when that happened, but the three kids huddled by the ladder and away from the door. Good. Something hit the back of the bus, and a mouth snapped in. You pushed the kids out of your way, picking the pipe up from under the seat, and swung it, a nasty  _crack_ emitting from where you whacked the thing on the head. It pulled back.

The bus shook and then slowly, heavy footprints echoed down from the roof of the bus. You looked up and saw Max standing their wide-eyed looking up at the gaping hole in your fortifications. You flung yourself forward, scrambling up the ladder, pipe in hand.

“Y/N, no!” Max cried, but Lucas pulled her back, and Steve had just turned his head when you were already halfway up. The dog like creature hovered over you, opening its mouth, and a totally inappropriate thought entered your mind— aside from all of the teeth it looked a little bit like a flower.

“Y/N!” Steve called out to you, but you had already thrust your hand and pipe forward into its mouth and up, and the creature let out a screech as you pulled the pipe back, the end now wet. You shoved it forward again at the creature which was somehow still moving and then another howl echoed out and it turned its head, your pipe knocking into it and shoving the creature back a few steps. It scampered off and you remained, one hand gripping tight to the other and the other still holding the pipe high.

 _“Holy shit,”_ Dustin swore, looking up at you.

“You took a few shaky steps down the ladder and turned to face the group, lowering the pipe.

"When the hell did you pick up a pipe?” Steve was looking at you wide-eyed, and you shook your head, brushing some hair that had fallen out of your ponytail back behind your ear.

You pushed over to the window and the group parted, letting you go. “We should follow them,” you said. “Who knows what’ll happen if they’re heading into town.” There was a general murmuring of assent as the group of you hurried off of the bus. Steve moved to the front of the kids, and you joined him, walking side by side: him walking with his bat sticking out of his backpack, and you with your pipe sticking out of yours.

He looked over to you as you passed the pile of uneaten meat.

“You’re kind of a badass, aren’t you?” Steve asked, quietly. You smiled at the slight awe in his voice and shrugged a shoulder. 

“I told you,” Max crossed her arms, smirking. “She’s dangerous.”


	2. Badass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since you were little, people tended to underestimate just how dangerous you were. You never expected that moving to Hawkins, Indiana would be the thing to convince people that you were more than just a pretty face. But your badassness is put to the test when you’re up face to face with demodogs and your asshole of a step brother.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting when you followed Max out of your house.

To some small extent–minuscule, really–you had been mentally prepared to run into a small alien looking plant or rock.  _Maybe_  a hunk of glowing metal from a UFO.

And then, when you’d been promised a lizard, you’d expected a lizard ranging from gecko to iguana size. Something that would be easy to lock away in a box and keep contained until some safe government agent could pick it up.

At  _no point_ had you expected to actually walk up to a government facility and find it overrun by interdimensional demon dogs.

Nor had you expected to be dragged into the backseat of the Chief of Police’s car and hauled off to one of the weird kids at school’s house. And if you thought Jonathan Byers was weird—his house was  _covered_ with scribbled images, taped from the floors to the walls and forming some sort of map. If it weren’t for the fact that you were convinced that these people may die without your help, you and Max would have been out of there like  _that_.

Even after some middle school punk girl with blood dripping out of her nose sent a demodog through the living room window–which had led to a confusing tearful reunion–you resolved to stay. Because just as soon as she had come, the plans were for her to go again. Her and all of the adults and the other teens. Except for Steve, leaving just the junkyard party plus one to hold down the fort.

“This is great, Max, really great,” you muttered under your breath from where you had sunk down at kitchen the table. She looked up at you from where she stood with Lucas. “You are  _never_ sneaking out of the house again.”  She smiled lightly, turning back to Lucas, and you narrowed your eyes. “I’m not smiling, Max.”

Next to you, Dustin was pulling all of the shelves and food out of the Byers’ fridge. You had been too exhausted to make more than a minimal effort to stop him. Especially when Steve started going along with it, wrapping the gross demodog in a beautiful old quilt to help shove in the fridge.

You pulled your hair out of what had to be the seventh failed side pony, letting your red locks hang down to your shoulders, like Max’s. You pushed your hair behind your ears, looking at your sister and Lucas. “Hey, you two,” you said, and they both turned to look at you. You could see in Max’s tense shoulders that she was ready to throw some classic “ _Stop with the lectures, you’re not my mom,_ ” and “ _I’m just following_ your  _example_ ,” lines if you opened your mouth again about how it was their fault you were dragged into it.

You jerked your head to the kitchen. “Dust pan and broom?” you asked, pointing to the shattered glass and debris from where the demodog had come through the window. Max stared at you blankly and you raised an eyebrow.  _Test me_. She nodded, pulling Lucas behind her to find them. Dustin and Steve failed to fit in the demogorgon for the third time.

“You two,” you said, whirling to them, your red hair fanning out. “Just take out all of the shelves,” you sighed, gesturing to the fridge. Dustin nodded, grinning as he began to pull more stuff to the floor. 

You sighed again, standing up from the chair, and casting a glance at Mike who hadn’t stopped pacing since everyone left. You had a feeling nothing you ordered him to do would help.

Lucas and Max returned with their broom and dust pan, settling into sweeping up the floor, as you bent down to the kitchen floor, taking the food and piling it up on the table rather than letting it sit there.

“So, what? You’re in charge now?” Steve asked as he held the dog in his hands. You glared up at him from the floor to see a slight smile on his lips.  

“As long as you’re keep doing stupid stuff,” you shot back, your face softening as the corners of your own lips curled up a little.

“What this?” Steve jiggled the demodogs corpse a little. “This isn’t even the stupidest thing I’ve done this week.”

“I know, I was there when you offered yourself as bait,” you said, piling more food onto the table.

“You can’t count that,” Steve shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because that was your stupid idea, I just put it into action.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, your smile larger than it had been.

“But is this really necessary?” Steve asked, directing the question to Dustin, and you breathed out a laugh.  _Now_  he was asking? They really did need you here.

The two got into an argument as you picked up the last of the food and stood up, brushing off your skirt. Another downside to you not realizing what you were getting yourself into. No one told you that you’d be running for your life all day. At least you’d put some leggings on underneath.

Sounds of another argument starting up in the living room drifted over to you, and you let your head drop back, staring at the ceiling and wondering what you had ever done to bring this upon you. Shaking your head and pulling yourself together, you walked into the living room to see Lucas and Mike shouting at each other, Dustin coming up behind you to but in with a “Demodogs!”

“The chief will take care of her,” Lucas shook his head.

Max rolled her eyes. “Like she needs protection,” Max murmured and you snorted.

“Listen dude, if a coach calls a play in the game, bottom line, you execute it, alright?” Steve stepped in. You shot him a side glance.  _Seriously?_

“Ok, first of all, this isn’t  some stupid sports game. And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench,” Mike shot back.

“Right. S-so, point is…” Steve stumbled over his words, trailing off, and you crossed your arms, tilting your head to look at him. You raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Right yeah, we’re on the bench, so uh there’s nothing we can do.” He flung the dishtowel over his shoulder, and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head. This wasn’t how you shut down a group of nerds.

“That’s not entirely true,” Dustin spoke up, and immediately everyone’s attention was glued on him. “I mean, these demodogs–they have a hive mind? When they ran away from the bus, they were called away.”

“So if we get their attention…” Lucas started

“Maybe we can draw them away from the lab.,” Max finished. You shot her a glare and she shrugged averting her eyes.

“And clear a path to the gate,” Mike added.

“Yeah and then we all die,” Steve shouted, exasperated. Poor boy.

“That’s one point of view,” Dustin murmured.

“No, that’s not a point of view, man, that’s a fact,” Steve turned, facing Dustin as Mike pushed back them. The kids followed, and you walked pack Steve.

“This is why I’m in charge,” you whispered, and he stood mouth opening and closing for some sort of comeback. You followed Mike through the house as he laid out your plan, Steve stuttering out his disproval. The kids continued to talk over him, until finally you stomped your foot, shouting out “HEY!”

 Five pairs of wide eyes turned to face you, and the room fell absolutely silent.

“This is  _not_ happening,” you cut your hand across your throat in the  _knock it off_ motion. “We barely escaped the junk yard, and now you want to go down to their  _lair?_ I don’t think so.”

They turned appealingly to Steve. “Don’t look at me,” he held up his hands. “We were tasked with keeping you shitheads safe, so that’s exactly what we’re going to do, which means staying here on the bench.”

Mike opened his mouth to protest, and you cut him off.

“Absolutely not,” you gave him a sharp look, and he looked down grumbling.

“You shitheads understand that?” Steve asked, placing his hands on his hips. This time he looked more like a mom than a superhero. The two of you stared them down. They cast each other guilty looks.

“Give us a yes,” you prompted, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

A familiar roar of an engine cut through the house. Your face fell, and you cast a look at Max. She ran to the window, dropping onto the couch to see outside. Lucas was by her side in an instant.

“It’s my brother,” Max panicked. “He–he can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.”

You shared a glance with Steve, and he looked towards the door. Headlights flashed outside of the window.  _Fuck._

You moved towards the door, and Steve reached out an arm to stop you. “Hey,” he called out softly.

“Let go,” you snarled, and he flinched his hand back.

“You can’t go out there,” Steve said, surprisingly firmly. You set your jaw and shook your head, continuing to head towards the door.

“Hey!” Steve said, coming in front of you and taking hold of your shoulders lightly. You paused, looking into his hazel eyes. “Chances are he’s looking for Max and you. And even if he is just looking for Max, if you go out there, he’ll think she’s in here. And then we’ve got a problem.” You looked away from Steve, unable to take the look he was giving you or his damn logic. “You’re on the bench. I’ll handle it.”

You turned away from him, frustrated. “Look, go…get a glass of water or something,” he suggested, running a hand through his hair. You looked back at him, taking in his tense form and slowly nodded, heading into the kitchen as he exited the house.

The house was quiet except for the sound of running water from the tap. You shut it off, lifting up the glass to your lips and draining half of it. You gasped as you stopped drinking. What a day. You shook your head, casually inspecting your nails, hoping to distract yourself from the sick feeling in your stomach and bitter taste in the back of your mouth.

Your nails had always been your version of a security blanket. You painted your nails whenever you were feeling stressed or really any sort of emotion. It was calming, wiping away the previous colors and replacing it with a new one. Even when you were furious, you took your time, using slow, even, controlled strokes to make sure each nail was perfect. And when you were nervous and didn’t have your bottle, the paint gave you something to chip at, to obsess over.

Looking at your nails now, you found that, against all odds, only one was chipped, and it was just at the edge. An easy fix. You put the glass down, smoothing over the nail with your thumb as you wandered into the living room. Looking up you gasped, seeing all four children crowded on the couch, peeking out at the window. In a fluid move they all turned back around and sat against the couch. “Shit! Did he see us?” Dustin asked.

“Get away from there,” you hissed, waving an arm, and the kids scampered off the couch and towards you as the front door flung open, and Billy darkened the doorway.

“Well, well, well,” Billy muttered, slamming the door closed behind him and moving further into the room, towards you. You stepped forward, keeping the kids back with your arms. “Shoulda known you were here too, Y/N,” Billy shook his head. “What’s that saying? Bitches of a feather, flock together?”

“Get out. I got her,” you hissed, taking a step back as he stepped forward, pushing the kids backwards.

“I bet you do,” he licked his lips. “But see, I was sent out to bring you back too. So let’s go. Get. In. The. Car.”

You snorted. “I don’t think so, Billy.”

“You know what happens when you disobey me,” he said darkly, towering over you. “I break things.” He pushed you back, sending you into the ground, knocking over Dustin and Max who were right behind you, Dustin grabbing Mike’s arm and bringing him down to the floor too. Max reached for Lucas, but Billy had grabbed him and was rushing him into the kitchen, up against a shelf.

“Since Maxine won’t listen to me, maybe you will. You stay away from her. STAY AWAY from her. You hear me?” Billy threatened.

You scrambled up onto your feet, looking for some sort of weapon. Your eyes landed on the bat. Too much. Then the pipe. Still too much. Knives. Closer, but you didn’t want to kill him. Panic rose in your chest as Lucas shouted out, kicking Billy in the groin. Billy jumped back, bending over. “You are SO DEAD, Sinclair.”

Max gripped at your arm as you started forward, holding you back as Steve came out of nowhere and brushed past you, heading straight for Billy. “You’re dead.” Billy hissed as Steve grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“No, you are.” Steve wound back a punch, and let it fly, straight it into Billy’s face.

“Steve!” you called out, and Billy began laughing. You motioned for Lucas to come back to you, and he scrambled over, standing with the rest of his friends. Max released your hand, taking Lucas’.

“Looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all,” Billy barked out. Steve ran a hand through his hair, moving it out of his face, and even though it was entirely inappropriate, a shot of electricity raced through your body, momentarily stopping your heart. 

“I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve, everyone’s been telling me so much about,” Billy said, drawing closer to Steve. You shook your head, moving forward, and Max once again grabbed your arm. You couldn’t tell if she was worried for you or worried about what you would do to Billy once you got your hands on him.

“Get out,” Steve pushed against Billy’s chest, and your heart beat faster. Billy paused and then wound back, throwing a punch which Steve ducked. He came up swinging another punch, sending Billy flying back into the table, knocking some of the food you’d so nicely piled there onto the floor. Billy was laughing again, and that bitter taste was back, conflicting with your racing pulse. The kids were shouting encouragements to Steve.

Steve got in another punch, and then another, throwing Billy into the sink. Billy reached back and grabbed a plate, slamming it into Steve’s head. You stepped forwards, Max’s fingernails digging into your skin. Steve stumbled away, and Billy stalked after him like a lion with its prey in his sights. He was forcing Steve back into the living room, and you pulled after them, Max’s grip relaxing as she stepped forwards as well.

“No one tells me what to do,” Billy whispered, head butting Steve and sending him sliding across the floor.

“ _Billy!”_ You screeched.

“Y/N,  _no,”_ Max hissed. Your fingernails were digging into your fists and you were sure they were going to break the skin soon. Billy walked over, sitting on top of Steve and sinking punch after punch into him. The kids; screams to stop filled your ears, and finally you shrugged off Max, stepping forward. You were out of weapons. You were out of time. You weren’t strong enough to actually stop Billy. You looked down, considering taking off a shoe and throwing it at him, and then your eyes caught sight of the glint of your belt buckle.

You took it off quickly, taking the two ends into your hands as you walked up behind Billy slipping it over his head and pulling back and up. Anger flooded through your veins. Anger for what he did to your mother every day. For all of the shit he put her through. He shifted, trying to shake you off, but you adjusted your grip on your belt (thankful you’d worn the thick leather one today) and placed a foot on his back, pushing him forwards as you pulled back on the belt. Your rage shifted as you thought about how he was the reason that you had to leave your home, your friends, your everything in California. His arms swung behind him, reaching for your legs, and you pulled harder. This was for the shit he put all of the people in this room through. For Lucas. For Steve. For Max. He clawed at the belt for a second before he dropped to the side, and you released the belt, panting heavily.

The kids were silent.

Max stepped forwards. “Did you…did you kill him?” Your eyes were wide as you looked down at Billy’s body, and you stared hard at him, panic rising in you. You had a feeling your newfound cop buddy wasn’t about to cover up a murder for you just because you helped four kids survive a demodog attack.

And then Billy’s chest rose and fell, and you relief flooded through you.

“He’s not going to stay asleep long,” you shook your head. “Any ideas?”

Max looked back and her eyes caught something. She grabbed for it, stepping forward and brushing past you, sinking a needle into Billy’s neck. The same kind they used to sedate the other boy earlier.

“Do you think…is he ok?” Max whispered, looking at Steve. Your eyes shifted to the bloodied and bruised face of the former asshole. You bit your lip and then shifted your gaze to the three stunned boys huddled in the doorway.

You pointed at Dustin. “Ice.” He took off.

You shifted to Mike. “Bandaids.” He followed Dustin out of the room.

Your gaze landed on Lucas. “Are you ok?”

He nodded quickly, and you nodded back, standing up. “Good. Get a map. We’re doing this thing.”  He paused for a second before recognition dawned in his face and he took off. “Max, keys,”  you ordered, and she started rummaging through Billy’s pockets before tossing them up onto you.

“ _Alright, let’s go,”_  you called out, breathing out a breath. If you could take Billy what was a couple of demodogs.

The kids scrambled, Mike coming in with the bandages first, shoving them at you as you knelt by Steve’s side. He ran back, looking at Max and muttering something about getting safety gear. The two of them left the room as Dustin came in with the ice pack. You placed a brightly colored butterfly bandage on one of Steve’s cuts, biting your lip and wincing as you did so.

“How is he?” Dustin asked, kneeling across from you.

“Out cold.” You didn’t take your eyes off of Steve. “See that huge lump on his head?”

“Yeah,” Dustin nodded.

You jerked your head towards it, and he got the message.

Two thundering pairs of footsteps rounded into the living room before heading out the door. Lucas came into the room. “I found a map!” he announced, waving it in the air.

“Map?” Dustin’s eyes lit up. You nodded.

“We’re leaving as soon as Steve’s bandaged,” you said, placing another bandaid onto his face.

“Wait–what about Steve?” Dustin asked. You finally looked away from the teenager’s face and straight into hat-boy’s eyes.

“Look at him.”

“We can’t just leave him here,” Dustin protested. “We can take him out to the car.”

“I don’t think Steve wants to be a part of this,” you shook your head.

“It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine,” Dustin dismissed, and you looked up seeing Mike, Lucas, and Max all staring at you, waiting for your word.

“Fine,” you breathed, and Dustin beamed.

“Mike, Lucas, help me carry him out to the car.”

You stepped back, allowing the three boys to scoop up Steve’s body and navigate him through the door. They hit his head against it and you breathed in sharply. The three struggled out to the car, Lucas reaching out to open the backseat’s door, Steve shifting in their grip with the loss of a hand, leaving Mike and Dustin scrambling to catch him. You winced as the boys hit Steve’s head against the car for the second time. Eventually they shoved him in, sandwiching themselves in as well as Max took the seat next to yours, map in hand. You swung out of the driveway, speeding along the roads. The timer was running out.

* * *

It wasn’t until about halfway there that there was shifting in the backseat. “Nancy?” Steve murmured, and, your face heated up as you looked out the window.

“No, don’t touch that,” Dustin soothed, adjusting the ice on Steve’s head. “Hey buddy. Shhh, shhh. It’s ok, you put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a good fight, buddy. You ok? You’re ok.” You smiled.

“Ok, you’re going to keep straight for half a mile and then make a left on Mount Sinai,” Max directed, and you nodded.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, pushing himself up. 

“We’re getting off the bench,” you threw back before returning your eyes to the road.“

"What?” Steve panicked.

“I promised them you wouldn’t freak out,” Dustin said.

“Freak out? Why would I freak out?” Steve’s voice broke. “Because we’re all going to die?”

“No one’s dying,” you scoffed.

“What happened to not going down to the lair?” Steve shouted back.

“It’s not a lair!” Mike corrected.

“Look, they need our help, and after watching you get put on your ass, I don’t want to be responsible for someone else getting hurt. If we can buy them some time, we’re buying it,” you argued. “And besides, haven’t you guys fought one of these things before?”

“That was different!”

“That’s Mount Sinai!” Max yelled.

“What?” your head whipped to look at her and then the road.

“Turn here!” you whipped the car around, sending the four boys in the back sliding against one another. You stepped on the gas, speeding up some more before the farm came into view, and in your headlights you caught sight of a big ditch in the middle of the field. You slammed onto the break, swinging the car around to a stop and Steve screamed out “Oh! Hello!”

“Woah,” Dustin let out appreciatively.

You and Max, threw the doors to the Camaro open, letting yourselves out as the boys pushed the seats forward, clambering out. Steve was the last one out, falling out of the car.

You reached down a hand, and he took it, letting out a groan as you helped to pull him up. “I can’t believe you’re letting them do this,” Steve shook his head.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to let you go get your ass kicked,” you said, brushing your fingers gently against his face. He flinched, and you pulled back your hand. “But you did.”

You turned away from him, ignoring the tightening feeling in your stomach as you reached into the trunk, pulling out goggles and a bandana and wrapping them around your face.

“Oh no, you’re not going down there,” Steve protested, and you whipped around to face him. You raised an eyebrow. “You’re wearing a skirt!” he squeaked, gesturing to your attire.

You pulled your bandana down so he could hear you clearly. “So I’ll save Hawkins and look good doing it. What’s the big deal?”

He snorted, but after spending the day with you, he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. Making you angry was dangerous.

* * *

You kind of wished you weren’t wearing a skirt as you ran away from the raging flames and waving tentacles. “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!” Steve shouted, as your group took off down the tunnels. He continued to shout it as Dustin repeated “Oh my God. Oh my God,” over and over again, mixing with your own squeals of  "Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew!“ You could hear the snarling growls from behind you, as Steve pushed your back lightly, urging you to go faster.

"Which way?” Max called out panicked, and Steve moved around you, pushing himself towards the front of the group, map in his hand.

“This way! This way!” he yelled, and you followed him, bringing up the rear. You were so focused ahead of the tunnels, you didn’t notice the way the ground shifted, and in your next step as you lunged forwards, your foot caught on a root, sending you hard down onto the ground. You let out a small scream as you fell, which only intensified when, in the same second that you hit the floor, a vine slithered over, wrapping itself around your leg.

“ _Help!_ ” you cried out, scrambling to push yourself up so you could reach into your backpack for your pipe.

“Y/N!” Max screamed, turning and scrambling towards you, the rest of the party coming with her as they pulled at your shoulders, attempting to yank you out of the grasp of the tentacle–vine–whatever it was. Every time they yanked, the vine wrapped itself tighter around you, tugging you even harder. And you couldn’t even reach your pipe because they were blocking your backpack in their efforts to help.

“Out of the way! Everybody back!” Steve’s panicked shout ordered, and the kids scooted around behind you and out of his way. Steve lifted up his nail ridden bat and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning your head away for good measure as he brought the bat down. A disgusting squishing noise echoed in the tunnel as the bat made contact with the thing grabbing you, and you made a retching sound. “Really?” Steve asked as he lifted the bat again, and you just shook your head, as he effectively severed the tentacle after a few good swings. The boys tried to pull you up, but your fear weighted you down into the ground. Steve stood in front of you, offering a hand. You looked up at him, breathing heavily as you swung your hand up to take his hand and let him pull you to your feet.

“Are you ok?” he asked, bending down slightly to be eye level with you, and you nodded quickly, looking down at the remains of the tentacle that had fallen onto your shoe.

“ _Ew!_ Ew ew ew ew ew,” you shrieked, shaking your foot rapidly to get it off. Once it was off, you began stamping on it angrily, and you had half a mind to reach up and grab your pipe when Steve’s chuckle cut you off.

“You’re fine,” Steve shook his head.

“It’s  _disgusting!_ You see how you feel, pinned to the ground with that  _thing_  wrapped around your leg,” you shuddered. He just laughed, shooting over a glance at you, and you reached over, smacking him. Hard.

A shrieking growl cut you off as you jumped back and huddled together. You grabbed Max’s shoulders, bringing her back into you. Dustin suddenly moved forward, looking at the demodog. “Dart,” he asked, looking at the thing. “Get back here,” you grabbed at him, and he shrugged you off, shushing the group. “Trust me. Please,” he asked, and you watched as he moved forward, talking to it.

You looked up at Steve and then back at Dustin several times, and he caught your eye, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

“Is that?” you started, and Max and Lucas hissed at you to shut up as Dustin began  _feeding_ the thing. You watched in disbelief and slight awe as he waved you forward, past the creature. Max led the way, you bringing up the rear as Steve moved to come in front of Max.

“Goodbye, buddy,” Dustin bade before you put an arm around his back, pushing him forward and out. You continued running down the tunnels when all of the sudden the earth seemed to shift, and Steve stopped, stumbling and almost falling. You lurched forward, grabbing onto Mike’s shoulders to steady yourself as Dustin and Max fell onto the ground. They quickly pulled themselves up.

“What was that?” Max asked. Her question was answered when in the next second there was an echo of dog howls and despite yourselves, you turned to face the noise.

“Run. Run!” Mike ordered, and your group turned and took off, all of you screaming at each other a mixture of encouragement and panic to  _get out._

You turned a corner and the rope hang down from the ceiling, relief blossoming in your chest. Steve stood next to the rope, grabbing Max, and pushing her up and out of the hole, and the relief grew. Max was safe. Max was safe and out. You grabbed Lucas by the shoulder, shoving him forward and he stepped into Steve’s waiting hands, being boosted up and out, Max grabbing a hold and pulling him. You and Steve both lifted Mike out, behind Lucas, and then Dustin.

“Come on, you next, princess,” Steve said, bending down so you could step into his hands.

“You just want to look up my skirt,” you breathed out in a slight joke, ignoring the fact you had leggings on. He grinned slightly, it quickly falling off his face as the howling grew louder.

“Shit,” Steve swore, standing up and pulling out his bat. You reached for your pipe, pulling it from your backpack and brandishing it as you watched the shadows of the dogs grow on the wall. The dogs came barreling at you, and you sucked in a breath, tensing and waiting for the inevitable. Something knocked against your legs, sending you off balance, and a hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against a warm body. You breathed out, looking around as the demodogs rushed past you, ignoring yours and Steve’s presence, on their way to something else. You turned, looking up at Steve, eyes wide, and he looked down at you. Both of you continued to stare at each other, letting yourselves be pushed and jostled by the dogs as you clung onto Steve, and he kept one arm secured around you and the other holding up the bat. The last of the dogs scurried past, but you stayed there for a second, breathing and thankful Steve was keeping you up.

“Y/N!” Max called down, and your gaze snapped up to your sister who had her hand reached down. You nodded, looking back at Steve who released you from his grasp and bent down, hands laced together into a step.

“No peeking,” you whispered, and he snorted out a laugh as he gave you a boost up and into the waiting hands of the middle school kids. You turned back around and reached a hand down to Steve who had shimmied slightly up the rope. He took hold and with the help of the kids, pulled him up. You were just brushing yourselves off when suddenly, it grew brighter around you.

The group turned around, looking at the headlights which shone out, so brightly you had to squint, flinching away. You reached for Max, taking her in her arms and turning her head away from it. She curled into you, and you barely noticed, too busy taking in the fact that both of your hearts were beating so fast, that someone had laid a hand on your back.

“Holy shit,” Dustin cursed as the lights seemed blinding. And then, just as suddenly as the brightened, they grew dim. You looked up, releasing Max and then glancing around the party.

“Do you think…?” Lucas started.

“Only one way to find out.” Mike answered the unasked question.

“Everyone back in the car,” Steve ordered, the kids piling into the backseat, as the two of you went to the back of the car, dropping your book bags in.

You paused, looking up at Steve who had one hand on the trunk. You took in his battered and bruised form. The way his shoulders were hunched from exhaustion, but he was still standing, and that was something.

“What?” Steve asked, noticing you staring.

“You’re kind of a badass, aren’t you?” you asked, quietly. He smiled and let out a small laugh.

“Almost as much as you.”


	3. Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since you were little, people tended to underestimate just how dangerous you were. You never expected that moving to Hawkins, Indiana would be the thing to convince people that you were more than just a pretty face. But even after you’ve faced down interdimensional creatures and your asshole of a stepbrother, the snow ball brings out your protectiveness.

Max had only ever let you put makeup on her twice.

The first time she was two and easier to talk into things. You had told her it would be fun–like coloring, and coloring was one of the few things Max slowed down enough to do at that age.

When Max had discovered halfway through the process that you doing her makeup Was only like coloring for  _you,_ you had to bribe her with stolen cookies to keep still and quiet.

The second time, she was fourteen and nothing but a ball of nerves.

You were in the middle of finishing your stat homework when she knocked on the partially open door to your room. She stood in the doorway, letting her hand fall back down to her side as the door creaked open to reveal her. Your eyes were immediately drawn to Max’s face and how something about it just seemed different. Your eyes moved from her face, to her outfit, assessing the navy sweater with yellow cuffs and red pants her fingers drummed against.

“What’s up?” you asked, turning fully to face her in your seat.

“Umm,” she hummed out the word, her eyes flicking to your vanity where your make up was spread out. You followed her gaze before returning your attention to her, a small grin on your face.

“You want to borrow something?”

Her eyes shifted back to yours. “I…” she trailed off, her cheeks going pink. “I don't…”

“Do you want me to do your makeup?” you asked, your smile growing despite yourself.

Max shrugged, regaining some of her usual composure. “I don’t know. I guess. If you want to.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“I have been waiting for this day literally your entire life,” you pushed yourself away from your desk, and towards the vanity.

Max groaned throwing her head back, “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“It  _is_ a big deal,” you said, tugging her into your room. She stumbled forwards a few steps before walking over to the chair in front of your vanity and plopping herself down into it, shrinking away from the mirror. “Sit up, straight,” you chided, and with some grumbling, Max wiggled herself into an upright position. You came around, reaching over to grab your eyeshadow pallet. You doubted Max had the patience for your entire routine, so the highlights would have to do. “It’s your first dance. Maybe the first time you’ll dance with a boy. Close your eyes.”

She acquiesced, her leg starting to bounce. You put your hand on it, gently pushing it down to still it. “Relax,” you instructed. “This is going to be fun.”

“For you,” Max grumbled, flinching as you brought the brush to her eyelid, gently applying the blue eyeshadow.

“It’ll be fun for you too,” you chided, moving slowly to the next eye. “Trust me.” 

“Just like I trusted you that Indiana would be fine?” Max asked.

“Was I wrong?”

She paused. “No,” she eventually relented. “Except for the demodogs,” she added under her breath. You laughed at her, and she smiled back, her shoulders relaxing just a little bit.

Your conversation wandered from there in the way conversations between sisters did. One minute you were talking about how you learned to swing a pipe, and in the next you were recounting the time you saved Max from a jellyfish. From there you wondered about your father and his new wife to listening to Max explain what made Dig Dug the  _best_ arcade game to discussing Lucas Sinclair.

By the time your mother paused in the doorway to see a  _very_ red Max reaching up to smack at your arm, as you laughed from behind her, in the middle of braiding her hair, you had gotten in three good observations about how much she liked him and how you suspected he liked her.

“ _Maxine,”_ your mother breathed out, and the two of you spun to face her, Max turning more red and you laughing even harder as you finished braiding her hair. “You look beautiful. Let me get my camera.” She rushed away, and Max glared at you.

“You were always going to have your photo taken. At least now you’ll look good in it.” Max swung an arm up to hit you, and you pulled her hair in retaliation.

“ _Ow!”_ Max yelped, “That  _hurt!”_

“Then don’t hit me,” you shot back, tying off the end of the braid and clipping it back to the rest of her hair.

A bright flash alerted you to your mother’s presence.

“Mom!” The two of you chorused, turning to look at her as she lowered her camera.

“You two are adorable,” your mother admired, beaming at you as she raised the camera again and clicked a picture of your faces.

In the years to come, when your mother would talk about you and Max to anyone, she would pull out two pictures. The first showed a grinning six-year-old you and gaping two-year-old Max, sitting in a pile of makeup looking like a pair of circus clowns. In the second, eighteen-year-old you and fourteen-year-old Max glared at your mother, with perfectly painted faces. Both had the same caption scribbled across the back,  _My beautiful girls._

* * *

“How do you feel?” you asked, looking over to Max. She shifted in the passenger sheet, giving a shrug.

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess,” she mumbled. You had noticed the way she tapped her leg with her thumb the entire drive there. Her gaze had been drawn to the trees and passing scenery outside of the car, looking anywhere but you until you pulled up outside of the middle school. Even then, she refused to make eye contact, but instead stared carefully at the dashboard.

“Not nervous or anything?”

“No.” The word came out too sharp for you to believe her.

You paused, waiting to see if she would say anything else or even get out of the car. She didn’t, and as the little green number on the clock changed from a 5 to an 6 and then to a 7, you let her sit her in silence, wrapped up in her own thoughts.

“You look great you know,” you tried again. “Not that you care.”

She shrugged, jerkily. It looked more like a severe twitch. More silence. 8. 9.

“It’ll be fun. It’ll be fine. You’ve faced demon dogs.” 

“Demodogs,” Max corrected instinctively.

“Yeah, I know,” you huffed out in annoyance. “Anyway, believe it or not,  _demodogs_  are a lot scarier and harder to deal with than middle school boys. When it comes to boys you just bat your eyes, flip your hair, and giggle at whatever stupid joke he comes up with.”

“I’m  _not_ going to do that,” Max finally turned to face you, glowering.

“Well you can’t make that face at them,” you shot back.

“I don’t want to go anymore. Take me home,” Max turned away, slouching down in the seat.

“What? Why not?”  

“I just don’t ok. Dances aren’t my thing. I’m not like you,” she exploded, throwing her hands up in the air.

You paused, letting the silence after her outburst settle over the both of you.

“What do you mean you’re not like me?” you whispered, eyes boring into the back of Max’s head.  

“I’m not…” she shrugged, trying to gather up the words. “I’m not pretty like you. Or fearless like you.”

You drew back, eyes still on Max as your mind whirled. “Max,” you whispered. “First of all, you’re gorgeous. Even if I hadn’t done your makeup, you’d still be gorgeous. You’re not wearing a dress, and you’re still going to turn heads. And don’t you dare say I have to say all these things because I don’t.” Max’s mouths snapped shut.

“And as for fearless. You’re the one who climbed out the window to check out the demodogs.  _You’re_ the one who came up with a plan to save Hawkins.  _You’re_  even the one who called Mom out when she announced she was engaged to Neil. Maybe you’re not fearless, but you’re definitely brave, and that’s way better.” Max straightened a little in her seat, and you reached past her, opening the door. “So get out of the car, march into that dance, and go be  _you._ ”

Max took a breath in, let it out, and then pushed herself out of the car. She turned back, one hand on the door to shut it as she leaned in looking at you.

“Thanks, Y/N,” she whispered.

“Of c–” The car door slammed shut, effectively cutting you off.

You tried to glare at Max’s retreating form, but it was hard to bring yourself to stay annoyed.

You shook your head, returning your gaze back to staring out the windshield. After a brief scan of the parking lot, you shifted your mom’s car out of park and drove home.

* * *

You weren’t sure why you came back to Hawkins Middle School early. The dance still had another twenty minutes left, but from the moment you got back home, you couldn’t stop thinking about Max.

What if the other girls made fun of her for wearing pants?

What if Lucas  _didn’t_ like her like that and asked another girl to dance?

What if someone spiked the punch and Max got drunk?

What if the dance sucked?

You had managed to distract yourself from your worries for most of the dance, reminding yourself of everything you had told Max in the car and how all of those things had happened to you and somehow you survived.

Still, when the clock hit 9:30, you had grabbed your mother’s keys, shouted where you were going and took off to the school. Just in case. And while you tried not to feel like too much of a creep, staring through the middle school doors and trying to catch a glimpse of your sister, you couldn’t help but feel like one. Well, that and a hypocrite.

A sharp tapping sound came from the driver’s side window, and you jumped in your seat, letting out a loud shriek. The sound of laughter drifted into the car even through the window as you tried to calm your heart and get your breathing back under control. You turned coming face to face with a grinning Steve Harrington. And it became that much harder to get your breathing and heart back to normal.

Steve gestured for you to roll down your window, and you acquiesced.

“Here to catch up on the latest middle school fashions?” Steve asked, still smiling.

“How else am I going to tell Max that she’s dressing all wrong? I need to know what’s in and what’s out,” you shrugged. “Didn’t expect to see you here, though.”

“How else am I going to get to see you?”

You did your best to keep from rolling your eyes. It wasn’t like you never saw Steve. You did. You saw him when you passed his locker every morning, on the way to yours. You saw him when you waited for Max to come out of the middle school, a few feet closer to his car than Billy’s. You saw him when you volunteered to shuttle Max to and from the arcade. Or Mike’s house. Whichever it was that week. You saw Steve a lot.

You just hardly spoke to him.

It wasn’t that you didn’t try. You did at first, but neither of you really wanted to talk about the time you defended a school bus from Demodogs or how you stopped Billy from beating him to death or how a jolt had gone through the pair of you when you stood clutching to each other, sure you were going to die in the otherworldly tunnels.

And it wasn’t like you were friends before any of that went down. Before you fought for your lives alongside each other, you referred to Steve solely as “The Asshole.” In fact, when you had slipped up and called him Steve in front of your friends last week, they thought you meant Steve  _Zimmerman._ And you hadn’t corrected them.

So, you smiled, waved, traded a few good-natured jabs, and occasionally he said things like this, and you responded with something along the lines of:

“I’m sure I run through your dreams fairly frequently.”

Steve winked, and this time you rolled your eyes even as you smiled.

You hadn’t been friends before.

You had only been allies during.

You were something else entirely now.

The shift had been subtle and strange and something you both noticed but did not acknowledge. So, you saw each other–you made sure you saw each other–but you didn’t talk. Because inevitably after the jabs and the flirts there came the awkward.

“Here for Max?” Steve asked, and you nodded.

“Dustin?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

And that was just the way things went between you two.

“Want some company?”

Your head tilted to the side of its own volition and you raised your eyebrows. This was new. This was, in general, something you stayed away from. Still, you didn’t stop the word from tumbling out.

“Ok.”

Steve nodded and came around to the side of the car, sliding into the passenger seat. He shut himself in, and the same tense silence that had overtaken you and Max just a few hours earlier once again seeped in, filling the car.

You cast a glance at Steve and he was staring dutifully ahead, nodding a little bit to himself as if pumping himself up to say something. Your stomach balled itself into a knot, and the memory of Max’s earlier assertion–that you were fearless–rose unbidden to the forefront of your mind. If she could only see you now. You were dangerous, yes. A badass, yes. Pretty, obviously yes. But fearless? Hardly. Steve turned to look at you, and you opened your mouth to cut him off, to say something, but he beat you to it.

“Why are you really here so early?”

The anxiousness that had previously been coursing through your veins, urging you to say something– _anything–_ evaporated almost instantly, leaving behind another feeling entirely that you didn’t want to think about.

You shrugged, giving a wry smile as you turned to gaze out your windshield and into the night. “Fashionably late has never been my thing,” you shrugged, and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“What?” you asked, keeping your voice light and casual.

Steve shook his head, a smile creeping onto his face. “I just never would have pinned you as a bad liar,” Steve remarked.

You balked, and he let out a laugh even as you whirled around on him.

“I am not a bad liar,” you protested. “I really don’t like being late. It’s rude.”

“Maybe, but that’s not why you’re here,” Steve charged. “So what? Did you just want some quality alone time with me?”

You snorted, and Steve chuckled, his eyes stuck on you as you shook your head.

“No,” you said more softly than you had intended. You bit your lip, looking away from Steve and those brown eyes of his and his easy smile. “I’m just…worried about her.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around and look at his face. You two didn’t share. It would break the whole pattern of communication you had going on.

“Girls this age are so mean. And Max is different. I mean she came wearing  _pants_.” You imagined Steve rolling his eyes at your small criticism of Max’s clothing choice. “I just don’t want her to get hurt. It’s dumb, I know, but–”

“It’s not dumb,” Steve cut you off, and you could just tell he was running a hand through his hair. “Sending Dustin in there…with his hair the way it was…I swear it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done, and I didn’t do anything but sit there and watch him do it. I mean, the kid looked like a poodle, Y/N…”

A burst of laughter surprised the both of you, as you turned around to look at Steve whose face looked genuinely concern, the only trace of amusement in his eyes.

“No, he did not,” you shook his head.

“I swear to God.” Steve held up a hand in promise.

“And you  _let_ him go in there? Those girls are going to  _eat him alive_.”

Steve shrugged. “Not much to do about it. It’d just be worse if I went in with him.” You let out a deep sigh as an agreement.

The corner of Steve’s mouth turned up and his eyes crinkled a little bit as he stared at you. The uneasy feeling in your stomach from earlier returned, anxiety made your skin tingle, and it was if you could feel every little sensation in the car.

“What?” you asked, your voice high pitched and taut.

“I didn’t picture you as a worrier, but you’re kind of soft, aren’t you?” Steve teased. You reached over and shoved at his shoulder, causing him to hit the car door even as he laughed.

“I’m not soft. I’m just protective,” you defended yourself. Steve pulled himself back into an upright position, and he gave you a disbelieving look. You shook your head, staring down at the car radio between you two. “I can’t stop the nightmares, but I can help with this.”

At the word nightmares, Steve had sobered instantly. It was as if you had flipped a switch with the word and all of the humor and teasing had slipped through the cracks in the window and door’s edges, escaping the car.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, “I get that.”

This silence was different. There was no anxiety, no tension, no buzz that something was about to happen. It was sad, and it was reflective, and it was thick. “How are you doing?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted.

He shrugged, the motion lurching. “Good days. Bad days. You?”

“Same.”

Back to silence. You watched the numbers slip away again. 6. 7.

“It’s weird not talking about it. It’s weird that we don’t talk right?” Steve burst, looking over at you as you jumped in your seat. You turned to him. And the look he was giving you. With his face so open and eyes so wide, and he was just looking at you like  _that_. Like the way he did when you were holding each other up in the crowd of demodogs.

“I mean, I  _am_  just a princess who prances around Hawkins High in my little outfits expecting people to go out of their way to help me.” You pushed out the words before the silence could change, and Steve winced.

“You remembered that, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “I never forget. Helps with avoiding repeating outfits and with getting revenge.”

“You’re a little terrifying,” Steve remarked, his look changing into more of an assessing one.

“Thank you,” you chirped.

“And just for the record, I was wrong about you. You’re not some airheaded, entitled, princess. Even if you do dress like one.”

“And you’re not  _that_ big of an asshole. Most of the time,” you grinned back at him.

Steve blanched. “You live with Billy and you called  _me_  an asshole?”

“Believe it or not, Billy doesn’t have a monopoly on being an asshole. All I did was ask you for directions and you freaked out.”

“Well that’s because…” You waited for the reason, something you had been wondering about for the past few weeks, but Steve trailed off, shaking his head. When he opened his mouth, you expected to finally have the answer, but instead all you had was “I’m sorry.”

And even though you wanted to press him on it. You wanted to know  _why_ there had been an animosity between you that made this conversation so strange and a little difficult, but as you looked at Steve, and that open look found its way back onto his face again, you decided that sometimes it was better to just let things go.

“I forgive you.”

Steve continued to look in silence, and while you might have attributed it to him being struck dumb with the graciousness you showed him, there was something more to it.

“What?” you asked quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, and Steve’s eyes followed the gesture.

“You’re just pretty.”

“What?” The word sounded more like a gasp than anything else, and your body seemed to freeze in place. Only, it didn’t feel frozen. It felt more alive than it had the entire time you were in the car. It wasn’t just your skin tingling, it was your chest, your gut, even your head buzzed.

“Nevermind,” a flush crept up Steve’s neck, staining his cheeks as he cast his eyes away from you. But even he didn’t move away.

“You think I’m pretty?” The words ran into each other so that they could escape on the same breath.

There was a pause. A long one. And then:

“Yeah.”

You darted forward before you could think about it, before you lost your nerve and caved into the butterflies and rushed pulse. You kissed him, briefly, lips touching his and then gone.

A look of shock crossed his face as you pulled back to your seat. No blush spread across your cheeks. No apology formed on your lips. Instead, your heartbeat just continued to maintain its steady but too fast rhythm.

“That’s really–”

You didn’t finish the sentence because in the space it took between “really” and “sweet,” Steve had moved forward and pressed his lips to yours.

This time, you did pull back. “Let me finish, geeze. Don’t be rude.”

“I was kissing you.” Steve exhaled, the sound in between amused and exasperated.

“And I was trying to compliment you. No one likes being interrupted.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and gestured with his hands as if to say,  _Well, go on then._

“That’s really sweet of you.” you finished.

A small smirk had appeared on Steve’s face. “Can I go back to kissing you now?”

“Yes,” you agreed, and he came forward again, this time cupping the back of your head so that he could pull you in to meet him for the kiss. You let him draw you in, only reaching down to free yourself from your seatbelt so that you could move even closer. Steve’s lips were softer than you had ever expected, and the kiss was gentler than you had ever experienced, and everything else that you had talked about in the car just seemed to melt away at the feeling of his fingertips rubbing small circles on the back of your head and his lips moving with yours. You separated him for a quick breath before coming back together with renewed fervor, your arms wrapping around him, and trying to drag him nearer still.

A strong rapping came from the car window and you jumped apart, releasing each other.

“Hey!” a muted but distinctively feminine and obviously fierce voice admonished through the window. “Keep your hands off of my sister.”

Your eyes roved from Max’s scowling face to Steve’s shocked and slightly scared one. You let out a laugh, leaning your forehead against his. “She’s a little protective,” you murmured.

“It must run in the family,” Steve said, pulling away as the door behind him was wrenched open.

You smiled. “You could say that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a request I received on Tumblr, this grew into more than I thought it would be!


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